five actors with speaking roles on-stage at one time. This numbers
twenty-two. However, though there are more than five characters
on-stage, no more than five of them are active. In effect, the
others become mute observers, functioning much as the nobleman,
soldier, or attendant type. For example, in the debate upon Grecian
policy in _Troilus and Cressida_, Act I, scene iii, 1-212, three
people speak: Agamemnon, Nestor, and Ulysses. During the utterance
of these 212 lines neither Diomedes nor Menelaus speaks, although
they are present throughout. In this scene they are mere supers.
Donalbain is on-stage throughout _Macbeth_, Act I, scenes ii and
iv, but he does not speak. He, too, functions as a mute nobleman.
Once Lear faces Goneril and Regan before Gloucester’s castle (II,
iv, 129-298), Kent and the Fool, who have been prominent hitherto,
drop into the background as mute attendants. This practice, not
of subordinating characters but of reducing them to ciphers,
facilitated the handling of large groups of characters. That this
was the technique of the poet is evident when one considers those
scenes where characters, who have every reason to be active, fail
to respond to events in which they are immediately involved. When
the Duke reveals to Isabella the brother whom she thought dead
(_Measure for Measure_, V, i, 495-498), we might expect Isabella
to say something, but she does not. Or when Cleopatra beats the
messenger who brings the report of Antony’s marriage to Octavia
(II, v), we might expect the otherwise talkative Iras or Alexas to
say something, but Charmian alone intervenes. In that scene the
others play mute supers.
The third, and second most numerous, category of group scenes
requires more than five active characters on-stage at one time
_excluding_ mute supers. There are forty-six instances of such
scenes. What distinguishes them as a class is that all of them
represent some type of situation which demands ceremonious
grouping. Among others there are banquet scenes, single combats,
council sessions, trials, parleys, processions, and greetings. In
all of them the formal character is marked, attention is directed
to one focal point, and the arrangement of the action is often
symmetrical and ceremonial (see Appendix C, chart ii).
It is apparent from categories one, two, and three that in the
case of 156 of the 166 group scenes, the organizing principle is
ceremony or duty. Movement and arrangement, though formal, are not
artificial. Rather, they reflect circumstances of Elizabethan life.
In the group scenes the personage of greatest prestige is usually
the one who directs the action and to whom the other characters
relate themselves. The importance of this organizing principle is
demonstrated by considering the plays of domestic life, such as
_The Merry Wives of Windsor_. Without a ranking figure, another
system of grouping had to be developed. In such a play, an object
of ridicule, accusation, or pity serves as the focal point, as in
the final scene of _Merry Wives_.
In the ceremonious scenes it happens sometimes that the focal
figure is not a major character in the play, yet as the person
of highest rank he is the one to whom all the characters address
themselves. This is clearly the situation in _Othello_ (I, iii),
where Brabantio accuses Othello before the Duke and Senate. It is
the Duke whom Othello answers.
Where no single figure serves as the point of reference in the
grouping, a center of activity invariably does. The wrestling
scene in _As You Like It_ (I, iii) or the duel in _Hamlet_ (V,
ii) are examples of this kind of organization. Another method is
the processional. Most processions pass over the stage with or
without halting for brief speeches. Occasionally the procession
might combine a focus of both activity and a central figure, as
in _Julius Caesar_ (I, ii). In some instances characters on-stage
describe or discuss members of the procession (_All’s Well_, III,
v; _Pericles_, II, ii; _Troilus and Cressida_, I, ii). Given the
free passage of the stage and a point of observation when needed,
these scenes offer little problem in staging. In fact, the regular
recurrence and similar arrangement of these scenes suggest the
influence of standardized staging.
Even where more than five characters are active in the course of
a group scene, more than five are rarely active during extended
portions of the scene. The finale of _As You Like It_ will serve
as a succinct and relatively typical example. The scene opens with
Orlando and Duke Senior briefly discussing Ganymede (1-4). Rosalind
enters, still disguised, to make certain that the mutual pledges
of marriage hold. She asks each interested person in turn for
confirmation (5-25). Five speak, all but Phebe answering Rosalind
with one line. She speaks two. Orlando and the Duke return to the
discussion of Ganymede (26-34). Touchstone enters and engages in
conversation with Jaques and the Duke while Rosalind has a chance,
off-stage, to change into her maidenly garments (35-113). Hymen
appears, leading in Rosalind; the pledges are finally confirmed
in single-line refrains. Hymen blesses the marriages. Five speak
(114-156). The Second Brother enters to tell the story of Duke
Frederick’s conversion. He is welcomed by the Duke only. In fact,
his brothers, Orlando and Oliver, never speak to him. Jaques, in
his own fashion, blesses each marriage. Three speak (157-204).
Rosalind delivers the Epilogue. In scenes of this pattern there is
no need for all the characters to be seen at all times. Instead,
the actors could come forward when needed, to play where they could
be heard and seen by everyone. At the conclusion of such a portion
of the scene, as when Touchstone and Jaques finish speaking, the
unneeded characters could retire to the rear until called for once
again.
That this was indeed the practice is illustrated by the Globe play,
_Every Man Out of His Humour_. Jonson’s stage directions in Act
II, scene iii, show that when Sordido and Fungoso are not needed,
they “with-draw to the other part of the stage” and that when
Puntarvolo has completed one part of his action he “falls in with
Sordido, and his Sonne” while other action is in progress.
The last category of group scenes contains as did those already
enumerated, more than five characters _excluding_ supers. However,
these scenes do not have a formal arrangement. Thus, the method of
grouping these scenes is not quite so rigidly set as that of the
previous category. Of this sort there are relatively few examples,
only ten or about 6 per cent of the group scenes. Some of these
verge on a formal arrangement without fully realizing it. The scene
of choosing a husband in _All’s Well_ (II, iii) is a unique example
in Shakespeare, although in the pattern of the writing there is a
symmetry which tends to give the scene a schematic quality. The
farewell scene in _Antony and Cleopatra_ (III, ii) and the arrest
scene in _Twelfth Night_ (III, iv) also approach formality. What
distinguishes these scenes from the rest of the formal group scenes
is merely the degree of ceremony.
The presence of formal patterns in stage grouping enabled the Globe
company to present large-cast plays with a minimum of rehearsal.
The presence of sub-scenes within the larger scene enabled the
essential action to be brought forward and viewed. Such a practice
naturally reduced the importance of the stage façade as a frame
for the stage picture, for the attending figures remained in the
background, near the tiring house, and the active characters
came forward to the front of the stage where they could be seen
in the round. Nothing hindered the operation of such a stage
procedure, for more than 80 per cent of all Globe scenes required
no stage machinery or properties whatsoever. Everything favored
it. The platform stage was not a gargantuan apron before a modern
proscenium. It was _the_ stage and the group scenes were played to
make full use of its expanse and flexibility.
I have devoted this much attention to Elizabethan stage illusion
and the group scenes in order to show that there were theatrical
practices in operation which did not depend upon the stage façade
or machinery. Yet the scholar of Elizabethan staging invariably
approaches the subject by first considering the function of the
stage and its properties in identifying the location of scenes.
E. K. Chambers categorizes scenes according to what setting they
need. Even Reynolds, who understands the necessity for considering
scene situations rather than stage locations, uses the latter
to determine the arrangement of his book. The result of such an
approach has been that a drama, which in production relied almost
wholly upon the voice and movement of the actor, has been studied
in terms of its settings, its least pertinent part. When a modern
character enters a scene, he enters a definitely indicated place.
The audience or readers are made very conscious of that place, its
odors, its atmosphere, its effect upon the characters. But in the
Elizabethan drama, particularly in the Shakespearean, a character
enters not _into_ a place but _to_ another character. Where he
enters is of secondary importance--to whom he enters or with whom
he enters is of primary interest.
Coordinately, the continuity of action from scene to scene was
independent of the stage façade. This conclusion is a logical
corollary of the evidence offered in Chapter Three. The enclosure,
used for discovery or concealment, is introduced sometimes within
scenes, sometimes with scenes, but not for the purpose of providing
flow from scene to scene, as we saw. Neither the above nor the
hell below ever serve the function of enabling one scene to follow
another. Properties, even though they serve conventional uses,
appear too infrequently and too irregularly to afford a means of
scene connection. Consequently, these conclusions have led me to
draw up five premises covering continuity in staging.
(1) The mention of place in the dialogue does not necessarily mean
that either a part of the stage façade or a property is employed.
Only actual use of the stage area or property confirms its
employment or appearance on stage. (2) A new scene does not have
to be played in a different part of the stage from the previous
one. This premise is closely connected with the idea that (3) a
change of location in the narrative is not necessarily accompanied
by a change in location on stage. Most scholars have recognized
that the exit of one character and the entrance of another from
a different door is enough to signify a change of location.
Although this is generally true, there are exceptions even in these
cases, for examples of scenes exist where a change of location
is effected without the clearing of the stage (_Julius Caesar_,
III, i; _Miseries of Enforced Marriage_, scene x; _Measure for
Measure_, III, i-ii; _London Prodigal_, D3^r-E1^v). (4) No regular
system of scene alternation occurs. Brödmeier’s simple theory of
alternation, one scene in front of a curtain and one scene behind,
has been discarded by scholars long ago. But more elaborate systems
of alternation, employing the “inner” and “upper stages,” are
still advanced. Examples are available for examination in Watkins’
book and Reynolds’ reconstruction of _Troilus and Cressida._ (5)
Evidence for the use of the enclosure in one scene of a play does
not mean that the enclosure was used in other scenes for which
there is no evidence. Many years ago Ashley Thorndike advocated the
opposite premise. “Clear evidence of the curtained inner stage in
one scene of a play must be taken as a presumptive evidence that it
was used in others,” he wrote.[4] Thorndike’s presumption has been
liberally interpreted by students of staging. Perhaps the absence
of additional mention of the enclosure is the clearest proof of its
limited use. After all, when the total evidence for a curtained
space is gathered together, the bulk is fairly slim in comparison
to the vast number of scenes which contain no such mention. Of the
519 scenes in the Globe plays, sixteen of them show fairly strong
evidence of being partly placed in the enclosure. This is about 3
per cent of the total. Perhaps the texts of the non-Shakespearean
plays offered by the Globe company reflect a truer percentage. Of
their 182 scenes, twelve show evidence of enclosure use, or about
6½ per cent.[5] In either case the total percentage is low.
These premises arise from my conviction that the part which the
stage façade played in the presentation of the plays has been
greatly overestimated. Visually, the façade was always the formal
background, but in the overwhelming number of cases the action
took place before it, not within it. Instead of looking to the
façade for the organizing principles of staging, it might be better
to look to the patterns of the scenes themselves.
III. ACTORS’ ENTRANCES UPON THE GLOBE STAGE
At one time, Sir Mark Hunter defined a scene as the action between
clearances of the stage.[6] Since this definition is generally
accepted, we can consider that the scene concludes with the exit of
all characters and commences with the entrance of other characters.
This so-called “law of reentry” operates in the overwhelming
majority of scene changes. It is rare for a character who has left
the stage in one scene to enter immediately in the very next. As C.
M. Haines has pointed out, most of the exceptions occur in battle
scenes. In those instances it is usual for an alarum or excursion
to separate the two scenes. The other exceptions are in large
measure suspect.[7]
Ready analogy to cinematic technique has led a number of scholars
to minimize the scene markings. Emphasis has been placed on the
flow of scene _to_ scene, to the extent that the separation of
scene _from_ scene has had to be made by a shift from one stage
area or mansion to another or by the opening or closing of a
curtain. However, in deemphasizing the contribution of the stage
façade to the continuity of the play, it is necessary to consider
that the pointing of scene divisions was managed by the actors
themselves. Overlapping of the exit and the entrance may not have
been the habit of the Globe company; instead separation and pause
may have been the method. The actors or stage attendants, on
occasion, had to bring out properties. This necessitated a pause,
however brief. Nor need this pause have been reflected in the text.
For one entrance in _The Battle of Alcazar_ the stage direction in
the Quarto reads:
Enter the king of Portugall and his Lords, Lewes de Sylva,
and the Embassadours of Spaine.
In the plot of the play, however, the corresponding direction
reads:
Enter: 2 bringing in a chair of state (mr. Hunt): w. Kendall
Dab & Harry enter at one dore: Sebastian: Duke of Avero;
Stukeley: 1 Pages: Jeames Ionas: & Hercules (th) to them
at another dore Embassadors of Spaine mr Iones mr Charles:
attendants George and w. Cartwright:[8]
Unfortunately, no similar parallel of stage direction and plot
exists for any of the Globe plays. In these same plots, we may also
notice, a line was drawn across the page to separate one scene from
another. Probably this was done to clarify the sequence of scenes,
but it had the added effect of fixing the scene divisions firmly in
the actor’s mind. Together with the rhyming couplet which concluded
so many scenes, it may have encouraged the insertion of a slight
pause between the scenes.
In Chapter Three I fully examined the character of the scene
endings. The conclusions are relevant at this point although the
evidence need not be reviewed. Seventy-nine per cent of the scene
endings indicate explicitly or implicitly that the actors march
off-stage. About ten and one-half per cent of the scenes end with
solo exits. About the same number of scenes fail to indicate
that the actors actually move out. It is obvious, from this
distribution, that at the ends of scenes the playwright normally
provided the actors with exit lines or movements. These served a
double purpose. They stressed the conclusion of the scene, and they
bridged the movement across the large platform.
The sufficiency of such simple movement to separate scenes is
reflected in what I call split entrances or exits. The split
entrance or exit occurs when characters come together or go apart
through more than one entryway. Entrance of two or more characters
“at several doors” or exit of two or more characters bidding
farewell to one another are split. Of the 644 entrances and exits
which begin or end scenes in the Shakespearean Globe plays, only
12.1 per cent are split scenes. Even of this low figure only
6.4 per cent are definitely split scenes, the remaining number
including probable cases. Thus nearly 90 per cent of the scenes
merely involve the exit of one actor or group at one door and the
entrance of another actor or group at another. The split scenes
are readily staged, if the third entry through the center curtain
is employed. Thus the burden of maintaining the continuity and
clarifying the story is placed on the actors--not on the stage.
Shakespeare relies on few methods for opening a scene. In 339
entrances[9] in the Shakespearean Globe plays he employs eight
methods for 88 per cent of the entrances. The most frequent type
of entrance is that of the mid-speech, which accounts for over 40
per cent of the scene beginnings. In such an entrance two or more
characters come on-stage engaged in a conversation the topic of
which was begun off-stage. This type of entrance is best adapted
to emphasize continuity of action. Among the seven other types is
the processional entrance, 9½ per cent of the total; the inquiry,
soliloquy, and commanding entrance, about 7 per cent each; and
finally the salutation, summoning, and emotional entrances, between
5 and 6 per cent each. In the commanding entrance a character
enters giving a command to someone already on-stage; in the
summoning entrance the character summons someone who is off-stage,
and in the emotional entrance a character enters disturbed by some
emotional experience, as Julius Caesar is after the tempestuous
night (II, ii).
Except for the processional and salutation entrances, the entrances
plunge the audience into the midst of a new situation or a more
highly developed stage of an earlier situation. In this respect the
evidence would appear to contradict my suggestion that a hiatus
may have defined the scenes. But considered in terms of the stage,
the contradiction is more apparent than real. This can be seen by
turning to the mid-speech entrance, 132 examples of which appear
at the beginning of scenes. A typical example opens _Othello_.
Roderigo and Iago enter, apparently after Iago has told Roderigo of
Desdemona’s marriage.
ROD. Tush, never tell me! I take it much unkindly
That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse
As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.
IAGO. ’Sblood, but you will not hear me!
If ever I did dream of such a matter,
Abhor me.
[I, i, 1-6]
But where do the characters begin speaking? At a stage door? The
stage doors on either side of the stage are virtually behind the
stage pillars. No matter how narrow one supposes these pillars to
be, and they cannot be very narrow considering their function of
supporting the heavens and huts, they interfere with action at the
stage doors. Although the exact locations of the doors in the back
wall are uncertain, they must have been behind or nearly behind
the pillars if one allows for the enclosure. Consequently, I doubt
that the mid-speech, which usually provides information vital to
the narrative, was begun at a door, and think it more likely that
the characters took several paces toward the center or forward
before speaking. This action may have provided a hiatus sufficient
to mark a new scene. Presence of such a hiatus is supported by the
fact that the mid-speech entrance seldom occurs within the body
of a scene. Shakespeare uses it almost exclusively to enable the
actor to maintain continuity from scene to scene. For example, in
_All’s Well_ and _Measure for Measure_, fifteen and ten mid-speech
entrances respectively all occur at the beginnings of scenes.
However, if the characters entered through the rear curtain, they
could engage in immediate conversation. Entrance of actors through
the enclosure curtains was not unusual, and, in fact, may have
occurred more frequently than we usually assume. For instance, in
_The Battle of Alcazar_, the Quarto stage direction reads:
Enter the king of Portugall and the Moore, with all theyr
traine.
For the same action, the plot reads:
Enter at one dore the Portingall Army with drom & Cullors:
Sebastian ... att another dore Governor of Tanger ... from
behind the Curtaines to them muly mahamet & Calipolis in
their Charriott with moores one on each side & attending
young mahamet....
Behind the terse stage direction then, lies a more elaborate
entrance involving the curtain. Although definite evidence for
such entrances does not exist in the Globe plays, there is, on the
other hand, no evidence to exclude such entrances. Moreover, there
are several situations which imply such use. At the conclusion
of scene i in _Othello_, Brabantio and Roderigo exeunt to seek
Othello. At line 160 Brabantio had come out one door, representing
his house. At line 184 he and Roderigo go out, certainly not back
into the house. Othello and Iago enter in mid-speech, surely upon
the outer stage. But from where? Not from the door through which
Brabantio and Roderigo just went out. Possibly from the door which
only recently had been the entrance to Brabantio’s house. Probably
through the curtain in the center of the stage. Although the
evidence is not conclusively applicable to the Globe plays, it may
be pertinent to note that in the _Roxana_ drawing, the flap of the
curtain is partially open, and in the frontispiece to _The Wits_ a
character is shown coming through the curtain. In all likelihood,
actors regularly entered through the center curtain, and when they
did, they could begin speaking immediately upon entrance. But
when the entrances were made through a stage door, I suggest that
conversation was held back for the several seconds needed by the
actors to move into the acting area proper and there to mark the
beginning of a new scene.
That a need to focus attention upon an entrance existed is evident
from a consideration of the entrances within the scenes. Many
of these entrances are heralded by some form of announcement or
question, such as “My lady comes,” or “How now?” or “Who comes
here?” Other means of emphasizing entrances were through action,
such as a procession, or through music, such as the horn announcing
Lear (I, iv), or through response to a previous command, such as
Lucius’ report of the Ides of March in _Julius Caesar_ (II, i).
In _As You Like It_, I count thirty-one intrascene entrances:
twenty-one are announced, one is accompanied by action, three are
responses to a previous command or scheme, and six are unprepared.
In _Lear_, there are fifty-one intrascene entrances, of which
twenty-five are announced, ten accompanied by action, three by
music, and thirteen unprepared. The unprepared entrances in _Lear_
are usually unannounced for dramatic purposes. Oswald’s entering
impertinently to Lear (I, iv), Lear’s bearing in the body of
Cordelia (V, iii), and Oswald’s sighting “the proclaimed prize,”
Gloucester, (IV, vi) depend upon suddenness for dramatic effect.
In addition to directing attention to an incoming actor, the
announcement filled an awkward gap. The depth of the stage caused
a dislocation between the actors already on stage and those
coming on-stage. Frequently, the former would be at the front
but the entrant would be at the rear. It was necessary to allow
time for the entrant to come down stage. The full effect of these
announcements was to formalize the entrances and enhance their
ceremonial impression.
Just how conventional the entrance might have been can be seen
by examining a particular group of entrance announcements. About
forty-three entrances in the Shakespearean Globe plays are
accompanied by announcements of greater length than the brief,
“Who’s there?” These announcements run from two lines to sixteen
lines in length. Most of them are short, two to four lines in
length, but a few are longer than ten lines. In each of these
instances a character or characters on-stage describe or comment
upon someone who has just entered. Usually the entrant is aware
of the others, but it is understood that he does not hear the
description. Modern producers often try to cover these awkward
entrances by giving the entrant some motivated business to
account for the delay in speaking. But these scenes are frankly
demonstrative, for the audience is supposed to be aware of both
parties. In _Hamlet_, Polonius greets Hamlet, Rosencrantz, and
Guildenstern. Hamlet, without answering, says:
Hark you, Guildenstern--and you too--at each ear a hearer!
That great baby you see there is not yet out of his
swaddling clouts.
[II, ii, 398-401]
And so forth for another three and one-half lines. Polonius can
“cover up” by waiting upon the prince, or by engaging in character
business, but in essence he becomes an inert object for that period.
The longest delay in an entrance, sixteen lines, occurs in
_Coriolanus_ (V, iii, 19 ff.) when Coriolanus describes the
delegation of Volumnia, Virgilia, young Marcius, and Valeria
approaching him. By no means could it require a speech of that
length for the actors to reach him, no matter from what part of the
stage they may have entered or where he may have been standing.
During his speech they become the visible expression of the inner
struggle that he is about to undergo. If they move, they must move
very slowly; if they stand still, they compose a picture. It is
highly unlikely that the Globe company tried to “naturalize” this
entrance by giving the entrants business or movement which would
divert the attention of the audience from the effect their entrance
was having upon Coriolanus.
Essentially the plays were written to enable the actors to enter
effectively without the aid of the façade, to play intimately near
the audience, and to retire convincingly without loss of attention.
When one takes into account the number of processions, salutations,
commands, summonses, and expressions of duty introduced to cover
and emphasize the entrances, one realizes that continuity from
scene to scene was mannered rather than casual, ceremonious rather
than personal, conventional rather than spontaneous. The effect was
probably not too far removed from the daily social manner of the
Elizabethans, but on stage their natural predilection for ceremony
may have been more fully systematized.
IV. RECURRENT PATTERNS OF STAGING
The patterns of continuity then do not lie in a play’s use of
the stage façade but inhere in a play’s structure. Chapter Two
traced the principal method of Shakespearean storytelling with
its apparent looseness of construction but its actual scheme
of central intensification and narrative finale. Within this
framework abounds a tremendous variety of scenes which seem to defy
classification. Nevertheless, situations and devices do recur in
Shakespeare’s plays. It is to those recurrent devices that I now
turn, for an examination of their patterns provides the best means
of envisioning the staging of Shakespeare’s plays at the Globe.
At one extreme there are those devices, such as the soliloquy,
which are highly conventionalized and frequently employed. At
the other extreme are the situations or episodes which are so
individualized that they seem to rely upon no distinct dramatic
convention, and therefore seem to be “a mirror of nature.” Between
the common theatrical device and the unique dramatic situation
exist the many episodes and devices in Shakespeare which are more
or less formal and which are repeated with greater or lesser
frequency in play after play. Through the reconstruction of the
staging of these recurrent devices and scenes, such as asides,
disguises, and so forth, the practices of the Globe playhouse
should become apparent.
I shall first consider the soliloquy, the aside, and the
observation scene. These forms being readily imitable appear
throughout the Globe repertory with frequency. For that reason
comparisons in function and technique are plentiful. Although these
devices compose a brief portion of a play, they contribute to the
development of the action and represent the theatrical method
employed to tell the story.
The soliloquy is probably the most characteristic theatrical device
of the Elizabethan stage. In the great soliloquies of _Hamlet_
and _Macbeth_ Shakespeare perfected this form of expression.
Unfortunately, these supreme examples have epitomized the content
and atmosphere of all soliloquies. The result has been injurious
both to the study of literature and the reconstruction of
theatrical conventions.
In tone and character, the soliloquy displays great variation.
Among the 144 soliloquies which I count in the Shakespearean
Globe plays, I distinguish three main subdivisions. All of these
represent some form of conscious thought brought to a point where
it verges on speech. Broadly, the soliloquies can be divided into
those which are essentially emotive in expression, those which are
cerebral, and those which are invocative. The divisions are not
hard and fast, however. The emotional release of Hamlet, after he
castigates himself as a “dull and muddy mettled rascal,” gives
way to rational plotting to ensnare his uncle. For convenience,
however, it is not inaccurate to speak of these three categories.
The emotive soliloquies make up about 40 per cent of the total;
the rational, containing philosophical comments, plotting, and
moralizations, make up about 46 per cent of the total; and the
invocative, such as Lady Macbeth’s call to the spirits of evil,
make up about 7 per cent. These figures are suggestive, not
definitive, nor does it matter that they are so. The important
thing to note is that the introspective soliloquy is rare. Among
the emotive soliloquies, there are expressions of sheer emotion,
such as Orlando’s paean of love (_As You Like It_, III, ii, 1-10)
and Angelo’s cry of remorse (_Measure for Measure_, IV, iv, 22-36),
Ophelia’s lamentation over Hamlet (_Hamlet_, III, i, 158-169), and
Thersites’ railings (_Troilus and Cressida_, V, iv, 1-18). But
there are few examples of the soliloquy of inner conflict, no more
than 5 per cent of all the soliloquies.
Not only in character are the bulk of the soliloquies
nonintrospective, but also in style they are extroverted.
Shakespeare depends a great deal upon apostrophe to sustain the
soliloquy. The character’s address may be directed toward the gods
(_Pericles_, III, i, 1-2: “Thou god of this great vast, rebuke
these surges,/Which wash both heaven and hell”) or to another
person not on stage (Antony to Cleopatra, IV, xiv, 50-52: “I come
my queen.... Stay for me./Where souls do couch on flowers, we’ll
hand in hand/And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze”)
or to natural forces (_Timon_, IV, iii, 176-196, to Mother Earth)
or to bodily organs (Claudius in _Hamlet_, III, iii, 70: “Bow,
stubborn knees”). In fact, this form of address may be directed
to anyone or anything. The effect of this literary figure was to
substitute a listener for an absent actor. True, the listener was
imaginative rather than actual, mute rather than responsive. But
instead of directing the soliloquy inward, the apostrophe enabled
the actor to direct it outward.
Other literary forms were also employed toward this end. Frequently
the character makes himself the listener by self-interrogation.
“Am I a coward? Who calls me villain?” asks Hamlet of himself (II,
ii, 598-599). Often the emotive soliloquy is couched in a series
of flat assertions or descriptions or comparisons, all of which
are contained in Hamlet’s soliloquy beginning, “How all occasions
do inform against me” (IV, iv). However, because twentieth-century
ears are acutely sensitive to psychological nuances suggested by a
soliloquy, they very often hear a false echo of inner revelation.
Only a few speeches of admittedly great soliloquies reveal profound
conflicts of the mind (_Hamlet_, I, ii, 129-159; II, i, 56-89;
_Macbeth_, I, vii, 1-28; II, i, 33-64; _Julius Caesar_, II, i,
10-69).
In line with the modern conception of the soliloquies as moments
of the most intimate, intensive personal revelation has arisen
the idea that the very front of the platform stage is the true
province of the soliloquy. Surrounded by the audience, so close
that he could almost touch the spectators, the actor is pictured
as unveiling his soul. But this view of the soliloquy must be
questioned. Although there is no evidence in the Shakespearean
Globe plays concerning the actors’ positions during the delivery
of the soliloquies, in the non-Shakespearean Globe plays there are
four instances where soliloquies are delivered from the enclosure,
two each in _The Devil’s Charter_ and _Thomas Lord Cromwell._
Whether or not the speaker remained in the “study” throughout the
speech is uncertain. In one case, _The Devil’s Charter_, Act IV,
scene i, a stage direction after the sixth line of the soliloquy
specifies that Alexander “commeth upon the Stage out of his study”
(Sig. G1^r). In _Cromwell_ one soliloquy is six lines long (Sig.
B1^v) and the other is ten lines long (Sig. E4^v). None of the
three soliloquies is introspective or intimate. Alexander expresses
rage as he gazes into his magical glass. Cromwell and Gardiner
in _Cromwell_ are planning one thing or another. The remaining
soliloquy in Act I, scene iv (Sig. B2^v-3^r), of _The Devil’s
Charter_, is lengthy, running to thirty-two lines. In it Alexander
reviews his covenant with the devil. He chastises himself, but
moderately, as befits a man who benefits hugely from his compact
with Lucifer. There is no indication that Alexander moves out of
the “study.” In the absence of a specific direction and in view
of the stage direction in Act IV, scene i, it seems likely that
Alexander remained in the study. Perhaps all that the evidence
can demonstrate is that no special area of the stage seems either
reserved for or barred to the soliloquy and that the actor took the
stage as the temper of the scene prompted. In all likelihood the
actor himself decided how and where he played the soliloquy.
In none of the Globe plays is there any certain indication that the
audience was directly addressed in the soliloquy. A. C. Sprague
has pointed out that some soliloquies lend themselves to such
delivery.[10] When Falstaff says in _The Merry Wives of Windsor_
(III, v, 12-13), “you may know by my size that I have a kind of
alacrity in sinking” or Iago queries (_Othello_, II, iii, 342-343),
“and what’s he then that says I play the villain,/When this advice
is free I give and honest,” the actor could speak directly to the
audience. In earlier popular plays actors undoubtedly did.[11] But
the plays of the Globe company do not provide conclusive evidence
on this point.
Two types of asides are usually recognized. In the first, something
is said “by one of the dramatic characters to another (or others)
not intended to be heard by all those present.” I shall refer to
this type as the “conversational aside.” In the second, what is
said is “very like a soliloquy (usually short) spoken while other
characters are present--and known to be present by the speaker--but
unheard by them.”[12] I shall refer to this as the “solo aside.”
Warren Smith distinguished a third type of aside, composed of
those speeches which “appear to be aimed at rather than addressed
to, another character on stage--and the words are evidently not
intended for his ears or any others.”[13] For the purposes of
examining the staging, the third type can be included with the
second. It will be sufficient to treat only two types of asides.
Although, in a count of the two types of asides in all of
Shakespeare’s plays, Warren Smith finds that the conversational
aside is more numerous than the solo aside, in a similar count in
the Shakespearean Globe plays only, the reverse is true. There are
fifty-six conversational asides and eighty solo asides.[14] Next
to the soliloquy the two together make up the most frequently used
device in these plays.
The conversational aside is usually introduced by some transitional
phrase which enables the speaker to move away from the rest of the
actors. When Brutus agrees to permit Antony to deliver a funeral
address over the body of Caesar, Cassius interrupts.
Brutus, a word with you.
You know not what you do. Do not consent
That Antony speak in his funeral.
[III, i, 231-233]
Sometimes the transitional phrase enables the nonspeakers to
retire. After Macbeth receives word from Ross and Angus that he has
been made Thane of Cawdor, Banquo addresses them,
Cousins, a word, I pray you.
[I, iii, 127]
This leaves Macbeth free to muse upon “the imperial theme.” Of
course, not all conversational asides are so explicit. But in
most cases some provision is made for enabling the speakers to
separate themselves from the others. After the murder of Duncan,
Lady Macbeth faints, drawing the other actors to her. This action
leaves Malcolm and Donalbain free to converse (II, iii, 127-130).
On occasion this type of aside may be delivered immediately upon
entrance, before the newcomers have joined the other actors
(_Measure for Measure_, IV, i, 8-9). In only a few cases is there
no definite removal of the speaker from the rest of the action.
Rosencrantz covertly says, “What say you?” to Guildenstern when
Hamlet presses him to confess that the King sent for them (II,
ii, 300) or Iago surreptitiously urges Roderigo to follow after
the drunken Cassio, “How now, Roderigo?/I pray you after the
Lieutenant, go!” (II, iii, 141-142). This sort of aside is flung by
one character to another usually without drawing forth a response.
In a few asides a single line is elicited, but only two instances
occur where an extended conversation is conducted without previous
separation having been indicated (_All’s Well_, II, v, 22-29;
_Julius Caesar_, I, ii, 178-214).
Comparison of these conversational asides with those in the
non-Shakespearean Globe plays shows that the convention of
separating speakers and nonspeakers was common to the playwrights
of the company rather than peculiar to Shakespeare alone. To
introduce extended conversational asides, the playwrights resort
to such trite phrases as “A word in private Sir Raph Ierningham,”
(_The Merry Devil of Edmonton_, Sig. B3^r 10-18), “Sir Ralphe
Sadler, pray a word with you” (_Fair Maid of Bristow_, Sig.
A4^v 12-B1^r 10). Where oral evidence is missing, sufficient
evidence is often present in the stage directions that the
speakers and nonspeakers separate. In both the Shakespearean and
non-Shakespearean plays the patterns of conversational asides are
the same.
In the non-Shakespearean plays, fortunately, there are additional
indications of how the asides were delivered. In two cases stage
directions require the actors to move away from others. On meeting
Astor Manfredy and Phillippo in _The Devil’s Charter_, Bernardo
addresses Astor alone. Then according to the stage direction, “They
draw themselves aside” (Sig. E1^v). A similar instance occurs in
_A Larum for London_. Egmont and the Marquis d’Harvuy are trying
to convince Champaign, the Governor of Antwerp, to permit them
to quarter their troops in the city. At one point, in the margin
opposite the lines of the Marquis to Egmont, is a stage direction,
“Take Egm. aside” (Sig. B3^v 25). The movement aside may have also
been followed by whispering upon the part of the actors, for after
Clare draws his wife aside, saying, “My daughter Milliecent must
not over-heare,” Millicent remarks aside, “I, whispering, pray God
it tend my good” (_The Merry Devil of Edmonton_, Sig. B1^v 7). Such
whispering may not have been a practice in all the conversational
asides, but it seems plausible. As a whole the entire pattern of
excuse, movement aside, and possible whispering seems intended
to create an impression of reality. This evidence, therefore,
strengthens the theory for realistic staging. However, the aside
was by its very nature a conventional device. Although the staging
of the conversational aside appears to minimize or hide its
conventionality, I believe that there is another explanation, the
exposition of which depends upon an inspection of the solo aside.
In the Shakespearean plays seventy-six of the solo asides may be
divided into two types according to whether or not the author made
some attempt to shield the aside of the actor from the attention
of the other characters on stage. In one type the other characters
are occupied in conversation or business so that it is reasonable
for them not to hear the aside. They may actually turn away from
the actor or they may be at some distance from him. Arranging the
delivery of asides in this way shows some attention to creating an
illusion of actuality. In the second type the other characters are
fairly near the speaker; in fact, they may be actually speaking to
the person who delivers the aside. It is understood, of course,
that they do not hear the aside, even in certain cases when the
aside is delivered directly to them. This kind of solo aside relies
heavily upon the convention of unheard speech, for which presumably
there were conventional means of delivery. Of these seventy-six
solo asides, exactly half falls into each category.
There is a difference in the categories, however. The evidence for
the realistic solo aside is negative, that for the latter positive.
The scenes in the first group enable the actor to deliver the
aside apart from the other actors, that is, neither immediately
before nor after the aside is he directly involved with the other
characters. When Othello greets Desdemona lovingly after the sea
voyage, embracing her with passionate ardor, Iago remarks:
O, you are well tun’d now!
But I’ll set down the pegs that make this music,
As honest as I am.
OTH. Come, let us to the castle.
[II, i, 201-203]
Iago may or may not be near Othello and Desdemona. Modern
production prefers separation, but this type of aside neither
confirms nor rejects such practice. In this sense such evidence is
negative.
For the second group of asides, the evidence is positive. The
asides are so inserted into the dialogue that the actor has no
opportunity to separate himself from the other characters. I
italicize the aside.
FRIEND. [to Timon] The swallow follows not summer
more willing than we your lordship.
TIMON. _Nor more willingly leaves winter; such_
_summer birds are men._--Gentlemen, our
dinner will not recompense this long stay.
[_Timon of Athens_, III, vi, 31-35]
In addition to instances of this sort of aside, there are examples
of an aside within a speech of a character. Master Page plans with
his wife, Master and Mistress Ford, and the Parson to trap Falstaff
at Herne’s Oak, where he will be assaulted by pinching fairies.
Page offers to provide the material for the fairy garments.
PAGE. That silke will I go buy, _and in that time_
_Shall M. Slender steale my Nan away,_
_And marry her at Eaton_: go, send to Falstaffe straight.
[_The Merry Wives of Windsor_, IV, iv, 73-75. F.]
In such speeches, the actor had no time realistically and credibly
to leave the individual or group to whom he was speaking. A slight
turn of the body or face or a change in voice had to suffice. But
the evidence of _Pericles_ indicates that the action may have been
deliberate and emphatic rather than precipitous and surreptitious.
The abundance of asides is sufficient testimony that their delivery
was not slighted. However, instead of suggesting by the division
of solo asides into two groups that there were two methods of
delivery, I suggest that the first group, for which the evidence is
negative, were staged in the same way as the second, that is, not
realistically but conventionally.
The asides were spoken from all parts of the stage. Actors
delivered them from the enclosure as well as from the very front
of the stage. Both Marina and Pericles speak rather long asides
from the cabin or tent of Pericles’ ship, certainly a discovered
setting (V, i, 95-97, 163-167). But there is no specific evidence
that indicates the method of delivery. The traditional picture of
the cliché aside being delivered by the actor out of the corner of
his mouth or from behind the back of his hand as he leans toward
the spectator did not originate in the Globe playhouse. Instead, as
the following scene from _Troilus and Cressida_ shows, the actor
cultivated the irony or mockery of the aside quite overtly. Perhaps
the other actors had to “freeze” during the aside, for there is no
indication that they covered the solo aside with action as they did
the conversational aside.
Occasionally, an elaborate pattern of asides is unfolded, often
including conversational and solo asides in the same sequence. In
these extended asides the formal character of staging at the Globe
is readily perceptible. One particularly mannered example occurs in
_Troilus and Cressida_. Ulysses has convinced the Grecian chiefs
that they must pit Ajax against Achilles if they are to gain the
services of the latter. Following this advice, Agamemnon flatters
Ajax, stirring his pride and vanity. Ulysses seconds Agamemnon,
asserting that Ajax should not be asked to go to Achilles as a
messenger. I quote at length, italicizing the asides so that the
pattern may be clear.
NEST. _O, this is well! He rubs the vein of him._
DIOM. _And how his silence drinks up this applause!_
AJAX. If I go to him, with my armed fist
I’ll pash him o’er the face.
AGAM. O, no, you shall not go.
AJAX. An ’a be proud with me, I’ll pheese his pride.
Let me go to him.
ULYS. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel.
AJAX. A paltry insolent fellow!
NEST. _How he describes himself!_
AJAX. Can he not be sociable?
ULYS. _The raven chides blackness._
AJAX. I’ll let his humours blood.
AGAM. _He will be the physician that should be the patient._
AJAX. An all men were o’ my mind--
ULYS. _Wit would be out of fashion._
AJAX. ’A should not bear it so, ’a should eat swords first.
Shall pride carry it?
NEST. _An ’twould, you’ld carry half._
ULYS. _’A would have ten shares._
AJAX. I will knead him; I’ll make him supple.
NEST. _He’s not yet through warm. Force him with praises._
_Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry._
[II, iii, 210-234]
This scene is a charade, not a realistic dramatic situation. Ajax
talks at times as though no one else were present. Perhaps he turns
away, but there is no need. It is far more likely that Nestor
and Ulysses stand on one side, since they converse together and
Nestor urges Ulysses on at the end, and Agamemnon and Diomedes on
the other side. Ajax remains between them. There is no evidence
for this arrangement, but it accords with the tendency toward
symmetrical design previously discussed.
Within the limitations of the evidence, two apparently
contradictory methods of staging emerge. The method of the
conversational aside seems realistic, the method of the solo aside
conventional. Does this mean that the Globe company practiced
a mixed style of staging? I do not believe so. Although the
conversational aside appears to strive for credibility in staging,
it does not try to make the motivation for separating the speaker
and nonspeaker credible. When Banquo calls to Angus and Ross,
“Cousins, a word, I pray,” he has no reason to do so other than to
leave Macbeth free to speak. His comments upon Macbeth’s reception
of the new honors are hardly the reasons. Similarly, the phrase
with which Hamlet draws Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to him, “at
each ear a hearer,” does not lead to a realistic scene, for Hamlet,
speaking aside to them, mocks Polonius who stands before Hamlet
but is not supposed to hear him. There is a genuine difference in
the methods of staging the two types of asides, but its purpose, I
suggest, was to differentiate the kinds of asides and to preserve
a clear story line. In the conversational aside the speakers draw
apart, for they have to indicate which actors are supposed to hear
the conversation. In the solo aside the speaker remains where he
is, for his delivery indicates that no one else hears him. Both
were devices, equally conventional in form, and yet regularly
staged in variant methods to further the narrative.
Closely allied to the aside in structure is the type of scene that
I shall call the “observation” scene. In the observation scene one
or more characters on-stage, unseen whether hidden or not, observe
and usually overhear other characters on-stage. In the course of
the observation the observer or observers may or may not comment.
In essence, the situation is contrived, although the scene in which
no comments are made is more plausible than that in which comments,
unheard by the observed, are uttered. But the asides have already
demonstrated the basic conventionality of Elizabethan theatrical
devices. The observation scene is of the same nature.
The observation scenes can be most easily studied by dividing them
into those in which the observers speak and those in which they do
not. Where the observers do not speak, the problem of placement is
greatly simplified. In several cases, for example, the observers
actually go off-stage. The location of the exit used in such cases
is revealed in _Hamlet_. Before going to the Queen, Polonius tells
the King,
Behind the arras I’ll convey myself
To hear the process.
[III, iii, 28-29]
As he and the Queen await Hamlet in her closet, he presumably
indicates the same place when he tells her,
I’ll silence me even here.
[III, iv, 4]
In the Quarto of 1603, Corambis (Polonius) is more explicit.
Madame, I heare yong Hamlet comming,
I’le shrowde my selfe behinde the Arras.
exit Cor.
[Sig. G2^r]
Earlier in the play, in preparation for a different observation,
Polonius arranged with the King to observe Hamlet as
he walks four hours together
Here in the lobby....
At such a time I’ll loose my daughter to him,
Be you and I behind an arras then.
[II, ii, 160-163]
As the moment for the observation approaches, the King explains the
plan to the Queen.
Her father and myself (lawful espials)
Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing unseen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge.
[III, i, 32-34]
Upon hearing Hamlet approach, Polonius calls to the King,
I hear him coming. Let’s withdraw, my lord.
[III, i, 55]
This is the same phrase the Queen uses to Polonius in her closet.
Withdraw; I hear him coming.
[III, iv, 7]
The stage direction specifies “Exeunt” for the King and Polonius.
In both scenes the observers or observer are to be behind an arras,
in both scenes they withdraw at the sound of the unsuspecting
Hamlet. The location of the arras behind which the King and
Polonius hide is indicated in the First Quarto. Instead of the
lines already quoted, which appear in the Folio and the Second
Quarto:
At such a time I’ll loose my daughter to him,
Be you and I behind an arras then.
the First Quarto reads:
There let Ofelia walke untill hee comes:
Your selfe and I will stand close in the study.
[Sig. D4^v 14-15]
The word “study” in the Globe plays regularly refers to the
enclosure. Therefore, although all texts specify the same place,
the Folio and Second Quarto refer to the hanging in front of the
study and the First Quarto refers to the study behind the hanging.
A similar observation scene occurs in _Measure for Measure_. While
the disguised Duke is consoling Claudio in prison, Isabella, his
sister, visits him. Yielding the prisoner to her, the Duke draws
the Provost aside and says:
Bring me to hear them speak,
where I may be conceal’d.
[III, i, 52-53]
Kittredge marks an exit at this point and an entrance before line
152. He may be correct, for an “exit” follows the King’s and
Polonius’ withdrawal behind the arras and an “entrance” precedes
their emergence. In the First Quarto Corambis’ withdrawal behind
the arras is also marked “exit.” I suggest, of course, that the
Duke, like the King and Polonius, withdraws behind the arras to
overhear Isabella and Claudio and emerges at the conclusion of
their conversation.[15]
There are other scenes where silent observers remain on stage.
In these scenes the observers sometimes interrupt the scene that
they observe. When this happens, it is not always clear whether or
not they hide behind some object or otherwise endeavor to secrete
themselves until they make their presence known. Sometimes the
observer definitely hides. A scene of this sort occurs in _The
Devil’s Charter_ (III, v). Frescobaldi is waiting for Caesar to
enter with the man whom he is to murder. The clock strikes the hour.
This mine hower appoynted, this the place,
Here will I stand close till tha’ llarum call,
he stands behind the post.
[Sig. F3^v]
Immediately thereafter Caesar and the Duke of Candie enter.
Frescobaldi observes them from behind the post. The same post, or
stage pillar, was probably used in the Shakespearean scenes in
the same way although in all but one of the scenes there is no
reference to the actor’s hiding himself. In _As You Like It_ there
are two observation scenes (II, iv; III, v) in which no evident
action is taken by the observers to hide themselves. The opening
scene of _Antony and Cleopatra_ is of the same sort. In these
instances the need for secrecy is much less pressing than in the
other situations. Perhaps it was the practice of the characters to
hide only when the situation demanded it.
Those scenes during which the observer speaks involve more complex
problems of staging. Of these the “handkerchief” scene in _Othello_
(IV, i) is the most intricate. At first, Othello, observing Iago
and Cassio, can hear them laugh but cannot hear them speak.
Next, he can hear them satisfactorily. Finally, he can see the
handkerchief clearly when Bianca flings it at Cassio. The first
phase is set by Iago’s suggestion to Othello to “encave” himself.
Upon Cassio’s arrival, Iago asks Othello: “Will you withdraw?”
During the scene with Cassio, Iago apparently motions to Othello to
come closer, for Othello says:
Iago beckons me. Now he begins the story.
[IV, i, 135]
It is hazardous to take the description of the hiding place
literally. In the course of the various observation scenes, the
stage posts are apparently called “this hedge corner” (_All’s
Well_, IV, i, 2) and “the turn” (_Timon_, V, i, 50). It is
possible, of course, that Othello does not move, the change from
his inability to hear the conversation to his ability to hear it
being conveyed by his line: “Now he begins the story.” But I think
it more likely that he does “encave” himself, that is, he partly
hides himself behind the arras. When Iago beckons to him, he moves
to one of the posts.
There is only one instance for which a property may have been used
as a hiding place. In order to see the effect of the forged letter
upon Malvolio, Toby, Fabian, and Andrew follow Maria’s instructions
to get all three “into the box tree” (II, v, 17). If the property
were used, it was probably thrust out or carried out from the
enclosure and placed in the center of the stage. All the same, the
box tree is not really required. No further mention is made of it.
To the business and lines of the three observers, it contributes
neither humor nor protection. Thus, the completeness and kind of
concealment really depended upon the narrative point which had to
be emphasized. Not the credibility of the observation but the
clarity of its rendition governed the manner of its staging.
All the devices thus far inspected reveal the same characteristic
of being no more conventional than the story requires. This is
particularly true of the observation scene. Where the observer is
not needed on stage until the scene that he is watching is ended,
he is sent off-stage. Where the observer is needed to interrupt at
one point, he is hidden simply and conveniently. Where the observer
must comment on the scene before him, he is prominently placed. The
yardstick is always relevance to the story. The situation is always
as credible as it can be, but the creation of credibility is never
an end in itself. These conditions hold true for the staging of
disguise scenes too.
Several scholars have studied the disguise scene in terms of either
its dramatic form or its psychological import.[16] Paul Kreider,
for example, emphasizes the careful preparation which precedes the
assumption of disguise in Shakespeare’s plays. Although he does not
consider the methods for staging the disguise, he makes it clear
that Shakespeare always informs the audience who is disguised. Here
I shall only consider how the character is disguised.
The basic method of disguise is through a change of costume. Almost
invariably this change furnishes the foundation for the disguise.
In the Shakespearean Globe plays there are seventeen instances of
disguise, of which five rely wholly and six mainly on a change of
costume (see Appendix C, chart i). In the non-Shakespearean Globe
plays, of fifteen cases, four rely wholly and six mainly on a
change of costume. Even when a different costume is not the sole
method of disguise, it is almost always introduced as an important
supplement. Fourteen of the seventeen disguised characters in
Shakespeare change their dress; thirteen of the fifteen in the
non-Shakespearean plays do so too.
Next in frequency and importance in effecting a disguise is a
change of manner. In addition to changing his clothing, the
character adjusts or alters his bearing or attitude. The Duke
becomes paternal in _Measure for Measure_; Harbart becomes as
blunt as his alias, Blunt, in _Fair Maid of Bristow_; Vindice in
_The Revenger’s Tragedy_ becomes familiar in his first disguise,
then melancholy; Edgar becomes a Bedlamite. The degree of change
in manner depends upon the situation in the play. The most
complete changes, such as Edgar’s, have dramatic purposes other
than disguise. Of the disguises in Shakespeare’s Globe plays,
eight show change in manner. In the non-Shakespearean plays eight
definitely and one possibly show change in manner. A change in
voice is occasionally introduced although the evidence may be
deceptive. Kent speaks of “razing likeness” and “changing accents”
but, as _The Revenger’s Tragedy_ shows, the latter phrase can refer
to manner as well as speech. Vindice, who has appeared before
Lussurioso in one disguise, is about to assume another one for a
new interview. Hippolito cautions him.
How will you appear in fashion different,
As well as in apparel, to make all things possible?
* * * * *
_You must change tongue_: familiar was your first.
VIN. Why, I’ll bear me in some strain of melancholy,
And string myself with heavy-sounding wire,
Like such an instrument, that speaks merry things sadly.
[IV, ii, 22-29. My italics]
The change of tongue to which Hippolito refers is not a vocal or
dialect change, but as the context clearly shows, a change of
temperament or manner.
Occasionally, but rarely, a dialect aids a disguise. Generally,
Shakespeare seems to call upon the actor to change his voice
somewhat more than his fellow dramatists seem to have done. There
are four examples of change excluding the instance of Kent examined
above. In the non-Shakespearean plays only one instance occurs.
However, it is equally necessary to note that in the disguises of
Rosalind and Viola, particularly that of the latter, Shakespeare is
careful to show that the voices do not change.
A change in face is rarely employed in disguise. Only one case
certainly occurs in Shakespeare, that of Feste in _Twelfth Night_,
though two others probably occur. In the non-Shakespearean plays
there is only one case of facial disguise. Where facial disguise
is introduced, it is always in highly simplified form. Of the four
certain and possible examples, two require beards, one depends upon
a smirched face, and one introduces a false scar.
In all disguises simplicity is the keynote. Several discoveries
of the disguised character’s identity require speed in changing
costume. The friars remove their hoods to identify themselves.
Others may remove a hat or some other part of clothing. Often
recognition of the true person comes only when the character
names himself. Generally the surprise and wonderment of the other
characters at the revelation of the disguise is out of proportion
to the device of revelation or the means of disguise. That
disproportion emphasizes the conventional element in disguise.
Disguise staging is simple, nominal, and somewhat standardized.
At the same time the authors take some pains to make the disguise
credible to the other characters. Several scenes occur where the
disguised figure is not known in his true person to the other
character or characters. In those situations mere assertion of
the disguise is sometimes sufficient. In the disguise of Old
Flowerdale in _The London Prodigal_ a false scar, removed at
the end, is a symbol of disguise. Yet in the same play Luce
assumes a maidservant’s dress and a Dutch accent in order to
parade as a Dutch “vrow.” Here again the conventional scene is
tempered by efforts to account plausibly for the disguise. By and
large, symbolic methods play little part in effecting disguise.
That is why I have introduced the adjective “nominal.” Through
uncomplicated means, such as a change of dress, disguise is
signified to the audience. But the completeness of the disguise
is insufficient to convince an audience that the character
would pass undetected. In that sense it is nominal, a token of
disguise, without becoming a sign of a deeper disguise, that is,
without becoming symbolic. Shakespeare is slightly more realistic
in his treatment of disguise than are his colleagues. But the
differences are too minute to count. The most complete disguises in
Shakespeare, involving all four means examined above, are those of
Feste and Edgar. In each case the completeness, as Maria says of
Feste,[17] is not to ensure disguise but to elicit for Feste richer
comedy and for Edgar deeper pathos and sharper contrast with the
mad Lear. Disguise scenes are usually staged according to recurrent
principles which are varied no more than the narrative or dramatic
purpose demands.
To draw a detailed picture of staging at the Globe, it would be
desirable to consider all the recurrent scenes minutely. But
this is not feasible in a study of this length. Instead, I must
depend upon the dissection of several types of scenes which can
best reflect Globe conditions. The remaining scenes which I shall
describe, because of the nature of the material or the preciseness
of the evidence, complement the scenes already examined. These
include the appearances of ghosts, the delivery of greetings and
farewells, and the reports of messengers.
There are eight ghost sequences in the Globe plays, six in
Shakespeare’s plays,[18] two in _The Devil’s Charter_. The prologue
of _A Warning for Fair Women_, a pre-Globe play, contains evidence
that the ghosts were physically represented by being shrouded in
a sheet or leather pilch (Sig. A2^r). However, Hamlet’s father is
specifically described as “Arm’d at all points” (I, ii, 200). In
the First Quarto a stage direction specifies that the Ghost wears
“a night gown” in Act III, scene iv (Sig. G2^v), although Hamlet
describes him as being in his habit as he lived (III, iv, 135).
These contradictions would indicate that there was no regular
practice for costuming a ghost.
In the staging of the ghost scenes, however, there seems to have
been conformity. The one non-Shakespearean play which portrays
ghosts, _The Devil’s Charter_, describes the staging exactly.
[A devil] goeth to one doore of the stage, from whence
he bringeth the Ghost of Candie gastly haunted by Caesar
persuing and stabing it, these vanish in at another doore.
Later in the same scene,
He bringeth from the same doore Gismond Viselli, his wounds
gaping and after him Lucrece undrest, holding a dagger fix’t
in his bleeding bosome: they vanish.
[Sig. G2^r]
Later in the play,
The Divell bringeth forth from the doore Lucreciaes Ghost,
and after her the ghost of Candie stabbed.
[Sig. M2^r]
Stage directions early in the scenes place these actions forward on
the stage so that there is no doubt that the stage doors are the
ones described as the entries for the ghosts.
W. J. Lawrence, some years ago, attempted to prove that the Ghost
in the first scene of _Hamlet_ rose through the front trap. His
conclusion was based on the argument that since Horatio, Marcellus,
and Bernardo are seated on stools and are looking ahead, the only
way “by which the Ghost could suddenly make itself visible to the
three [is] by emerging in front of them through a trap.”[19]
The dialogue of the characters contradicts this theory, however. On
the entrance of the Ghost, Marcellus cries:
Peace! break thee off! Look where it comes again!
BERN. In the same figure, like the King that’s dead....
BERN. See, it stalks away.
[I, i, 40-41, 50]
After the Ghost leaves the first time, Marcellus describes the
visitations of the previous nights.
Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,
With martial stalke, hath he gone by our watch.
[I, i, 65-66]
The First Quarto is more graphic.
With Marshall stalke he passed through our watch.
[Sig. B2^r]
In the next scene, when Horatio describes the initial events to
Hamlet, he states that at first the Ghost appeared before Marcellus
and Bernardo,
and with solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them. Thrice he walked
By their oppressed and fear-surprised eyes,
Within his truncheon’s length.
[I, ii, 201-204.]
All these descriptions suggest that the Ghost entered through one
of the doors, crossed the stage, and departed at another door.
When Hamlet awaits the Ghost, Horatio is the first to see it.
Look my lord, it comes.
[I, iv, 38]
Hamlet addresses the Ghost, urging it to answer. During this time
there is opportunity for the Ghost to cross to the opposite door,
then beckon to Hamlet to follow. Hamlet follows the Ghost through
the door and five lines later Horatio and Marcellus follow them.
Immediately the Ghost, trailed by Hamlet, enters through the door
that he first used.
The final exit of the Ghost, according to Lawrence, is through the
trap. The fact that the Ghost cries from the “cellarage” makes this
suggestion convincing. It must be observed, though, that the Ghost
does not speak until fifty-seven lines after he exits, or nearly
three minutes later. Furthermore, John C. Adams has shown that the
use of the main trap is usually accompanied by thunder to cover the
sound of the trap mechanism. If this were the practice, the exit
through the trap is unlikely.
The last of the ghost scenes in _Hamlet_, that in the Queen’s
closet, is reminiscent of the other scenes. The Ghost enters,
presumably through the stage door, chides his “tardy son” and
departs. Endeavoring to convince Gertrude of his sanity, Hamlet
describes the departure.
Why, look you there! Look how it steals away!
My father, in his habit as he liv’d!
Look where he goes even now out at the portal!
[III, iv, 134-136]
“Portal,” in the Oxford English Dictionary, is defined as “a door,
gate, doorway, or gateway, of stately or elaborate construction.”
Only the outer stage doors can satisfy this definition. Thus,
Hamlet’s description of the departure can pertain only to one of
the outer stage doors. I offer a conjectural reconstruction of this
scene. After Hamlet slays Polonius, who has been hiding behind
the arras at the rear of the stage, he draws his mother forward,
seating her upon one of the stools distributed about the stage.
The pictures of the royal brothers, probably hanging on a wall
of the façade, if the evidence of _A Warning for Fair Women_ is
applicable,[20] are unveiled by Hamlet, who then comes downstage
toward Gertrude. Thus, when the Ghost enters, he comes on stage
behind mother and son and in front of his own picture. At the sight
of the Ghost, Hamlet falls to his knees. After admonishing his son,
the Ghost completes his crossing and “steals away ... even now out
at the portal.”
For the staging of the last two ghost scenes, the evidence is
scanty. Banquo’s ghost enters and sits at the banquet table
twice. Since the table is forward on the stage, Banquo presumably
follows the same course as the other ghosts, entering at one
stage door, sitting, and leaving at the other door. Despite a
modern predilection for more elaborate stage trickery, there is no
evidence that the stage machinery was employed in the staging of
ghost scenes at the Globe. The last of the ghost scenes confirms
the evidence of the other plays. Brutus is seated in his tent,
reading a book. The Ghost of Caesar appears. The lines of Brutus
imply that the Ghost walks toward him. At first Brutus says:
Who comes here?... It comes upon me.
[IV, iii, 275-278]
Finally, as the Ghost departs, he cries:
Now I have taken heart thou vanishest.
[287]
The last verb may be deceptive. In _The Devil’s Charter_ the stage
direction “they vanish” describes the departure of the ghosts
through an outer door. In _Jeronimo_ a ghost is said to have
vanished though he still delivers another five lines before he
exits through the stage door. Altogether the evidence indicates
that the ghost scenes were staged with a minimum use of stage
properties or machinery, with great simplicity and with standard
methods.
In Shakespeare’s Globe plays there are forty-one farewell or
greeting scenes of different degrees of elaboration. These
amenities do not seem to have been perfunctory affairs, casually
staged, but were ceremonious in manner, much more so than modern
productions reveal. Embracing, particularly in farewells,
handshaking, and kneeling all played a part in the ritual of
greeting and bidding farewell. Whenever one person meets or leaves
a group, he does so formally, witness _Troilus and Cressida_, Act
IV, scene v, which contains greetings to both Cressida and Hector.
Perhaps the hails of the witches to Macbeth were in imitation of
courtly greetings. The manner of greeting can be glimpsed through
the jaundiced eyes of Apemantus as he watches Timon welcome
Alcibiades, obviously with bows and genuflections.
So, so there!
Aches contract and starve your supple joints!
[I, i, 256-257]
To a superior figure, whether King (_All’s Well_, I, ii), Protector
(_Pericles_, I, iv), or mother (_Coriolanus_, II, i), kneeling was
the accepted manner of greeting or being greeted. Although doffing
the hat was the accepted sign of greeting a superior, among equals
bowing or shaking hands was usual.
Embracing of men appears quite clearly in farewell scenes. Antony
and Caesar embrace at parting (III, ii, 61-64), as do Flavius,
Timon’s steward, and his fellows in _Timon of Athens_, (IV, ii,
29 f.). The farewell without ceremony, which Helen receives from
Bertram (_All’s Well_, II, v, 59-97) is particularly offensive.
In the same way as in greeting, the departing character, when he
leaves a group, formalizes his farewells by making the rounds
(_Coriolanus_, IV, i). Tears usually flow at such a farewell.
Every group farewell scene in Shakespeare where a woman is present
is bathed in tears (Virgilia in _Coriolanus_, IV, i; Octavia in
_Antony and Cleopatra_, III, ii; Lychorida in _Pericles_, III, iii;
Cordelia in _Lear_, I, i, 271). Natural patterns of decorum as
well as inclinations toward uniformity characterize these scenes
as a whole. Although standard external means of greeting and
bidding farewell exist throughout the plays, they are observed with
ceremony and rendered with deliberation.
Most of the scenes or devices considered heretofore are relatively
uniform in manner and frequency throughout the Globe plays,
Shakespearean and non-Shakespearean alike. The messenger,
however, is a unique figure peculiar to Shakespeare. On the
average, about five messengers appear in each of Shakespeare’s
Globe plays, compared to an average of about one in each of the
non-Shakespearean plays. Shakespeare’s messengers may be divided
into two classes. Fairly often a character in a play will assume
the function of the messenger in order to deliver a report.
Essentially, this is what Gertrude does when she describes the
death of Ophelia (_Hamlet_, IV, vii). Characters as messengers
generally do not assume a special manner but continue to maintain
their own identities.
The other type of messenger is the formal messenger. There are
forty-three of these as compared to thirty-one character messengers
in Shakespeare’s Globe plays. The generic messenger usually has no
identity. His manner is often theatrical rather than natural. This
is particularly evident when he does not inform but directs the
superior characters (_Julius Caesar_, V, i, 12-15; _Coriolanus_,
II, i, 276-284). Occasionally the situation demands some veil of
characterization (_Antony and Cleopatra_, II, v; _Julius Caesar_,
III, i). In those instances the messenger takes on the qualities of
a servant.
The dramatic function of the messenger was to change the course of
the scene, to bring some outside force to bear upon the characters
on stage, and, by doing so, to provoke some alteration in the
passions or actions of the characters. The salutation accorded
the messenger is usually brief, yet attention is clearly focused
upon him. The usual respect of servant to master does not seem to
be present, but instead it is replaced by an imperious manner. A
curious feature of the staging is that no exit is marked for the
formal messenger after he delivers his message. Sometimes he is
dismissed by the one who receives the message, sometimes he is held
back to answer questions, but it is not clear where he goes or how
he joins the rest of the actors. I am inclined to believe that he
usually exits immediately after delivering his message. There are
several scenes in which a series of messengers enter to report
a changing situation (_Coriolanus_, IV, vi, 37-79; _Troilus and
Cressida_, V, v). The effect of mounting pressure depends upon the
repeated entrance and exit of the messengers. The intensification
such scenes require could be effectively produced by the entrance
of the messenger at one door, and after his report, by his exit at
another. If this were regular practice at the Globe, the playwright
did not need to mark an exit for him.
The formal messenger is an example of a purely conventional figure
who is not symbolic. Whether he had a prototype in Elizabethan
life or he was a creation of dramatic technique, he still emerged
as a conventional figure, changing little from Caesar’s Rome to
Macbeth’s Scotland. Attention was concentrated on his function--not
his character. Therefore, he was granted a forthrightness of
expression not found in other stage servants.
Excluded from the study of staging have been many scenes which
depend primarily upon acting. In these scenes, which make up large
segments of the plays, the qualities of clear speech and passionate
action play the major part. A discussion of their staging would be
fruitless because the method of staging them has little influence
upon the final effect. Most numerous among these scenes are those
devoted to plotting, singing, word-play, commentary upon character
or situation, railing against another, and pleading. Scenes of
mocking and loving follow closely behind these.
Among these scenes are some of the greatest expressions of
Shakespeare’s dramatic powers. For example, there are twenty
pleading episodes in Shakespeare’s Globe plays. This score
includes Portia’s plea to Brutus for confidence (_Julius Caesar_,
II, i), Isabella’s plea to Angelo for Claudio’s life (_Measure
for Measure_, II, ii), and perhaps the finest example of all,
Volumnia’s plea to Coriolanus for Rome’s salvation (V, iii). But
few of these derive their powers from elements of staging. Where
they are located on-stage does not matter much, for they create an
environment of their own. Yet scenes such as these need dimension.
If the actors kneel and plead, they need scope to do so. That is
why it is hazardous to depart from the conditions of the open
platform in reconstructing the staging.
The handling of entrance and exit and the representation of the
conventional devices and scenes provide the framework of the
staging. Interwoven and interpolated are those scenes which rely
not on formal presentation but on spontaneous action. These are the
scenes which, through the intensity of their poetic conception, the
penetration of their observation, or the keenness of their wit,
illuminate the stage. But no sharp distinction exists between the
conventional device and the spontaneous action. They both spring
from the need to sustain and perfect an extended narrative.
V. THE STAGING OF THE FINALES
The art of staging in the Elizabethan theater reaches its
culmination in the ritualistic finale which usually brings the
narrative to a close. The dramatic nature of the finale has been
fully discussed in Chapter Two. Its theatrical execution may
fittingly conclude this chapter.
Most of the finales depict a sequence of action foreknown to the
audience but not to the figure or figures central to the action.
This fact contributes greatly to the ritualistic impression of
the finale. Thematically, the finale completes the process of
rendering judgment and rewarding faithfulness or love. This process
is elaborately and meticulously worked out so that all possible
complications of the narrative are unraveled.
Theatrically, it is accomplished in one of two ways. The final
“mystery” is solved with the ranking person usually directing the
process (_All’s Well_, _Twelfth Night_, _Measure for Measure_), or
a final conflict takes place between a figure rendering judgment,
a champion, as in _Lear_, and a figure receiving judgment. Thus,
pictorially, there can be one of three centers of focus: the judge,
the combat, the revealed mystery. In some cases the rendering
of judgment is effected by the central character upon himself,
as in _Julius Caesar_, _Antony and Cleopatra_, and _Othello_.
Othello, who has been touched by Christian morality, is conscious
of rendering self-judgment. Brutus and Cleopatra, instead, commit
suicide in the high Roman fashion.
About two-thirds of the finales begin with only one or two
characters on stage who set the conditions for the finale (_Antony
and Cleopatra_, _Twelfth Night_, _The Merry Wives of Windsor_,
_Othello_, and so on). Once the basic premises are assured, the
essential action takes place. In _Twelfth Night_ it centers about
the contradictory accusations against Viola. In _Julius Caesar_ and
_Antony and Cleopatra_, Brutus and Cleopatra probe the necessity
for death and direct the preparations for suicide, the latter more
elaborately than the former, of course. The finales of _Measure for
Measure_ and _All’s Well_ follow a similar pattern: a ruler seeks
the answer to a mystery by holding a hearing.
All concluding dramatic situations have a courtly or martial
formality, except for the finales of _Merry Wives_, _Othello_, and
_Troilus and Cressida_. The finales of _Hamlet_, _All’s Well_,
_Measure for Measure_, _As You Like It_, _Twelfth Night_, and
_Antony and Cleopatra_ reveal a courtly formality of one sort or
another. In these scenes the subordinate figures are grouped in
relation to the sovereign. This fact alone favors symmetrical
balance in the design. For example, the King in _All’s Well_, after
first welcoming Bertram, is prompted by seeing Helen’s ring on his
finger to question the manner of her death. All action is related
to the King. Probably standing at center, he receives and dismisses
Bertram from one door and receives Diana from the other. In
_Hamlet_, the duel is the focal action of the scene. The placement
of the King and Queen, however, dictates the grouping of the court.
The stage directions specify that a table with flagons of wine upon
it is brought in (_Hamlet_, V, ii, 235f.). The stage direction in
the Quarto of 1604 calls for “cushions” which may have been placed
on the stools (Sig. N3^v). But apparently no state is introduced.
Therefore, the King and Queen probably stand or possibly sit in
the center, well enough downstage to be easily seen, the duelists
fight before them, and the court is grouped behind them. Until the
entrance of Fortinbras, the only speakers are the King, Queen,
Hamlet, Laertes, Osric, and, briefly, Horatio, who speaks once when
Hamlet is wounded and once when Hamlet is dying. Even this résumé
does not convey any idea of the actual sequence of the speeches.
No more than two or three people speak in any one part of the
scene. The members of the court, placed at the sides and the rear
of the stage, are called upon only once to cry “Treason, treason.”
Otherwise they are virtually ignored. Earlier in this chapter I
outlined the finale of _As You Like It_ in the same way, to show
the division of the scene into episodes of twos and threes. To
formalize the grouping, Shakespeare introduced Duke Senior into all
the episodes, thus using him as a point of reference.
Where martial conditions prevail at the conclusion, the grouping
is governed by the presence of the triumphant general or prince.
Malcolm, hailed as King of Scotland, is ringed about by his thanes.
At first Alcibiades is engaged in a parley with the Athenian
Senators, but when they leave the walls, he is left completely
alone. In _Julius Caesar_ the opposite happens, for the defeated
leader is the center of interest. One by one, Brutus approaches the
remnants of his supporters, who are ranged about him, to persuade
one of them to slay him. Finally, the last man gratifies his wish.
Even when the conquering generals enter, his body remains the
center of attention, thanks to Antony’s eulogy.
_Merry Wives_ and _Othello_, having neither courtly nor martial
finales, rely on a different kind of focal point. In the former
play, the place where Falstaff, the object of ridicule, hides
from the “Fairies,” determines the design of the scene. In
_Othello_, the location of Desdemona’s bed initially dictates the
arrangement of the scene. But when the final truth is known and
Iago is arrested, Lodovico supersedes the bed as the keystone of
the grouping although Othello naturally remains the figure of
greatest interest. This shift of focus from one center to another
during the scene and the succeeding diffusion of focus near the
end, make staging the finale of _Othello_ upon the Globe stage
extremely difficult. Constant reference to the bed early in the
scene requires the actors to turn toward the rear of the stage,
even if the bed is thrust out. The text demands that Othello,
Emilia, and Gratiano, at the very least, relate themselves to the
deathbed for considerable periods of time. This kind of finale is
peculiar to _Othello_, lacking as it does a constant focal point
and formal grouping. The explanation may be that the extant texts,
Folio and Quarto, embody the version played upon a shallow stage at
Blackfriars. Mounted upon such a stage rather than upon the deep
stage of the Globe, the finale could be more effectively presented.
The grouping, as I have shown, usually depends upon the placement
of the sovereign or triumphant figure. The progress of the finale,
however, is controlled in large measure by the degree and kind of
activity in which the ranking figure (or figures) engages. In _As
You Like It_ Duke Senior, being passive, is more a point to which
the action relates than a figure who directs the action. Orsino
and Olivia in _Twelfth Night_ jointly direct the uncovering of
the mystery by calling upon others to act rather than by acting
themselves. The focus thus lies between them. In contrast, the Duke
in _Measure for Measure_ not only serves as the center of attention
but also acts as the central force in bringing the “mystery” of
the action to light. _Lear_ reveals an interesting finale which
shifts the centers of interest from the single combat of Edmund and
Edgar, first to the display of the bodies of Goneril and Regan,
and then to the entrance and death of Lear. But throughout these
orderly shifts of attention the ranking figure, the Duke of Albany,
functions effectively but unobtrusively. It is he who questions
Edgar, orders the disposal of the bodies of the evil sisters,
directs the burial of Lear, and speaks the final words.[21]
Although himself never of central interest, his presence at the
center of the action is necessary to the unity of the finale.
The last factor that influences the staging of the finale is the
introduction of a resolving figure, found in many of the plays. He
may be either of critical or of supplementary importance to the
completion of the action. It is his presence which unravels the
mystery. Sebastian is the resolving figure in _Twelfth Night_. His
entrance unties all the knots at once. However, because _Twelfth
Night_ contains a double plot, Fabian is needed to explain the
trick played upon Malvolio, thus serving as a supplementary
resolving figure. Similarly, Edgar and Lear are resolving figures
for their respective plots. Further illustrations include the
Duke in _Measure for Measure_ and Helen in _All’s Well_. For a
spectacular effect, Shakespeare introduces Hymen as a resolving
figure in _As You Like It_. His words to the assembled lovers could
very well speak for all the resolving figures.
Peace ho! I bar confusion.
’Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange events.
[V, iv, 131-133]
It is interesting to see that instead of relying upon the enclosure
curtain to effect a sudden discovery, Shakespeare introduced an
allegorical figure to make the revelation of Rosalind theatrical.
The revelation, therefore, had to be processional, with Hymen
acting as marshal. Virtually the same pattern occurs in the finale
of _All’s Well_ where the widow leads in Helen. Under special
circumstances, a discovery can be made without using the stage
curtain. Enveloped in his friar’s hood, the Duke in _Measure for
Measure_, as his own resolving figure, can enter undetected.
Lucio, by plucking off the friar’s hood, accomplishes a sudden
discovery.
Ranking figures may also serve as minor resolving figures. Such
characters as Fortinbras in _Hamlet_, Caesar in _Antony and
Cleopatra_, and Antony in _Julius Caesar_ bring events to a close
by delivering a eulogy over the fallen hero. Their entrances are
processional; their departures are dead marches, in which the body
or bodies of the slain are carried off. Another group of minor
resolving figures are those entering with information necessary to
the disentanglement of the complete narrative. Fabian, as I have
shown, is one of these. So also is Fenton in _Merry Wives_ and the
soldier in _Timon of Athens_.
The entryway through which the major resolving figures come is
crucial to the staging. For this the plays provide no satisfactory
clues. Diana’s lines which precede the revelation that Helen lives
could easily imply a discovery.
He [Bertram] knows himself my bed he hath defil’d,
And at that time he got his wife with child.
Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick.
So there’s my riddle: one that’s dead is quick--
And now behold the meaning.
Enter Helen and Widow.
KING. Is there no exorcist
Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?
[V, iii, 301-306]
Similar situations occur in _As You Like It_ and _Twelfth Night_.
In _As You Like It_ the revelation is heralded by music which
suggests a processional entrance. In _Twelfth Night_ Sebastian
follows Toby on stage in order to justify his treatment of Toby.
These scenes by analogy indicate the unlikelihood that Helen was
discovered by the drawing of the curtain of the enclosure. Yet in
all these scenes the resolving figures must enter prominently, for
upon their entrance they occupy the center of attention. I suggest,
therefore, that to achieve maximum effect and to preserve symmetry,
these entrances were made through the curtain at the rear of the
stage.
Throughout this chapter I have stressed dramatic factors usually
ignored, and minimized factors usually stressed. The theory of
staging which emerges, therefore, departs in some ways from the
views generally accepted. I have emphasized that, in re-creating
Globe stage practices, we must be cautious:
(1) Not to reconstruct staging only in terms of settings;
(2) Not to disregard or underestimate the vital role that the
entrances and exits played in the artistic organization of the
productions;
(3) Not to neglect the inclination of the Globe company towards
uniformity in staging;
(4) Not to overvalue the necessity or even the desirability of
novelty in staging;
(5) Not to underestimate the ability of the Elizabethan narrative
to shape its own principles of staging;
(6) Not to assume that staging at the Globe occupied as crucial a
role in rehearsing and performing a play as it does, aesthetically
and organizationally, in the theater today.
Chapter Six
THE STYLE
The conclusions which I have drawn in this essay apply only to
production at the Globe playhouse from 1599 to 1609. From them
it is clear that the staging of the plays was influenced less by
the structure of the stage than we have hitherto thought. When
William Poel undertook to demonstrate how a knowledge of the use
of an Elizabethan stage is conducive to a proper appreciation
of Elizabethan plays, he embarked upon a necessary and salutary
crusade. Almost every recent Shakespearean production attests to
its success. However, the effect of his campaign has led to an
overemphasis upon the importance of Elizabethan stage structure to
production. Such studies as those of V. E. Albright, J. C. Adams,
G. F. Reynolds, and Ronald Watkins are based on the assumption that
the stage structure and its machinery played the decisive role
in the presentation of an Elizabethan drama. This premise is not
supported by the evidence. Certainly the basic form of the stage
affected both the structure of the plays and the manner in which
they were produced. The large platform and formal façade determined
the fundamental conditions of production. But the actual production
of a drama relied upon specific parts of this stage much less than
we have thought. Style in staging was inherent in the dramatic
form, not the stage structure.
The style of acting at the Globe played as much a part in
the shaping of production as the stage structure itself. But
Elizabethan acting lacked both the histrionic traditions and the
fertile conditions for the development of a self-perpetuating
style. Instead, the actor, endowed with a keen tongue, an agile
body, and most of all, a passionate heart, fitted his skills and
talents to the needs of the plays. Unlike the _commedia_ actors or
the naturalistic actors of the Stanislavsky school, the Elizabethan
actor did not impose a mode of presentation upon the individual
scripts. This fact in no way reduces his importance to the
production; it merely means that his style of playing was derived
from the drama. Although the actors employed the playwrights, they
did not dictate the kind of roles which were to be provided.
All factors of production, of course, were modified by the
exigencies of the repertory system. Simplicity and recurrence
in staging were direct results of such a system. It demanded
flexibility from the actors and from the stage. Because of the
practice of doubling in most plays, and the daily change of bill,
the system prevented the development of special “lines.” Altogether
the strenuous demands it made upon the actors encouraged individual
brilliance and bold strokes but discouraged intricately designed
spectacle, ensemble playing, or extensive rehearsal.
Subject to the conditions of the repertory system, the script
played the dominant part in shaping the style of production.
Naturally the form of the script harmonized with the structure of
the stage and the manner of acting. The platform stage encouraged
the growth of a panoramic narrative form of drama. The actor’s
rhetorical and poetical skill, and his freedom of emotional release
enabled the author to provide him with speeches of swelling
passion. But it was the script which united these elements into a
harmonious theatrical style.
This style, within certain limits, was realistic, not because
of the subject matter of the narrative but because of the many
opportunities that it offered for the description and portrayal
of passion and thought. True, the framework of the passion and
thought was conventional, but the conventionality had its source,
for the most part, in the ceremony of Elizabethan life, which was
artificial only in the Elizabethan sense of having art. Within
this conventional framework, which facilitated narration as
well as imparted form to the acting and staging, there operated
a spontaneous, lyrical, and intensely emotionalized reality.
A conventional framework, however, must not be equated with a
symbolic method.
Recent scholarship has looked with increasing favor upon George
Reynolds’ contention that Elizabethan staging was fundamentally
symbolic. Kernodle has shown how symbolism functioned in medieval
art and continental staging but has been less successful in showing
its presence upon the English stage. Both scholars have pointed
out individual instances of symbolic staging during the Globe
period, but neither of them has demonstrated the consistent use of
symbolism throughout a number of plays or an entire production. Nor
is there evidence that a pattern of symbolism pervaded the action
of the Globe plays. It is significant that few of the properties
which we know were used at that playhouse reveal a symbolic
purpose. For the most part they are utilitarian. Those properties
which are most readily suited to symbolism, such as trees, have no
certain representatives at the Globe playhouse. Although I have
pointed out several instances where symbolic staging was or may
have been introduced at the Globe, its occasional appearance did
not establish the over-all style.
This style is chiefly characterized by its reconciliation of the
contradictory demands of convention and reality. The two forces
were maintained in delicate balance through the poetic vision
of the playwrights, most completely by Shakespeare, to a lesser
extent by his contemporaries. To call this style realism leads us
to confuse it with the realism of modern drama. To call this style
symbolism, even though it avails itself of symbols to a limited
extent, leads us astray. Perhaps it is necessary to reflect the
dual nature of the style in a compound term. For the conventional
framework, the adjective “ceremonial” is appropriate. For the
passion which lies within the conventional framework and which even
permeates its interstices, the adjective “romantic” is appropriate.
For the scope of the theme and the elevation of the tone, the
adjective “epic” is appropriate. Thus, the style of production
at the Globe playhouse may be defined as at once, ceremonial,
romantic, and epic.
APPENDIX A
i. Comparison of Plays Known Only Through Henslowe with Plays
Otherwise Known
Total number of plays listed in the performance
lists of Henslowe’s _Diary_ 113
Plays known only through Henslowe’s _Diary_ 62 54.9%
Plays known only through the _Diary_ and Henslowe’s
_Papers_ 5 4.4
Plays known otherwise than through Henslowe’s
_Diary_ or _Papers_ 24 21.2%
Plays which scholars have identified
with works otherwise known (22)
Identification is probable for 10 8.9
Identification is improbable for 12 10.6
Plays definitely and probably unknown but ----- -----
for Henslowe 69.9%
Plays definitely and probably otherwise known 30.1%
Of those known otherwise than through Henslowe 34 plays gave
403 performances
Of those unknown but through Henslowe 79 plays gave
496 performances
ii. Length of Runs of Plays Listed in Henslowe’s _Diary_, ed. W. W.
Greg, I, 13-22, 24-25, 27-28, 30, 42, 49-54
1. Number of Performances
_No. of Plays_ _No. of Plays_
_No. of_ _between_ _between_
_Perfs._ _1592-1597_(a) _1594-1597_(b)
1 19 5
2 15 5
3 8 1
4 7 4
5 4 0
6 3 2
7 7 4
8 5 4
9 4 3
10 6 2
11 6 4
12 8 7
13 3 2
14 4 3
15 2 2
16 2 2
17 2 1
21 1 1
22 2 2
25 2 2
29 1 0
32 1 1
36 1 0
(a) Full performance list, 1592-1597: 113 plays. Average number of
performances: 7.9; mean number of performances: 7.
(b) Partial performance list, June, 1594-February, 1597, limits of
the most stable period. Average number of performances: 10; mean
number of performances: 10.
2. Length of Time
_1592-_ _1594-_
_1597_(c) _1597_(d)
(_No. Plays_
_Years_ _Mos._ _and Percentage_)
1 30 26.5 9 15.8
2 16 } 5 }
3 6 } 2 }
4 7 } 31.0 3 } 22.8
5 5 } 3 }
6 1 } 0 }
7 7 } 5 }
8 7 } 6 }
9 3 } 24.8 2 } 33.3
10 5 } 4 }
11 6 } 2 }
1 0 2 } 2 }
1 1 2 } 2 }
1 3 2 } 8.0 2 } 15.8
1 4 1 } 1 }
1 7 1 } 1 }
1 8 1 } 1 }
2 0 1 } 3.5 1 } 5.3
2 2 3 } 2 }
3 2 1 .9 1 1.8
Revived(e) 6 5.3 3 5.2
(c) 1592-1597, 113 plays.
(d) June, 1594-February, 1597, 57 plays.
(e) Length of run is counted continuously when a play is
performed regularly, there being no more than four months between
performances. Otherwise the play is considered to be a revival.
iii. Summary of Court Performances, 1590-1642
Total number of plays that were or may have been
presented at Court, 1590-1642 144
1. Plays definitely produced publicly before appearance
at Court 67 46.5%
2. Plays where initial performance is uncertain 39 27.1%
(Notice of Court performance is _only_ or _first_
reference to play.)
3. Plays for which there is evidence public playing
preceded Court performance 8 5.5%
4. Uncertain. Title pages indicate performances in public
and at Court 6 4.2%
5. Plays the title pages of which refer only to public
performance 4 2.8%
6. Plays which received licenses shortly before Court
performances 8 5.5%
7. Old plays revived, possibly with additions for Court 4 2.8%
8. Plays definitely presented at Court first 7 4.9%
9. Plays probably presented at Court first 1 .1%
The total number of plays presented at Court is calculated from
the lists appearing in E. K. Chambers, _The Elizabethan Stage_
and Mary Steele, _Plays and Masques at Court_. The investigation
of the circumstances under which the plays received their first
presentations employed a wide variety of primary and secondary
sources. It is beyond the scope of this book to give the evidence
for each conclusion.
APPENDIX B
i. Localization in Shakespeare’s Globe Plays
Type of Locale _Total_
_Play_ _Particular_ _General_ _Neutral_ _Scenes_
P D P D P D
Julius Caesar 6 2 9 1 18(f)
As You Like It 1 3 18 22
Twelfth Night 2 4 9 3 18
Hamlet 1 3 10 6 20
Merry Wives of Windsor 3 13 1 5 1 23
Troilus and Cressida 4 6 2 11 1 24
All’s Well 1 1 17 1 3 23
Measure for Measure 6 4 2 4 1 17(g)
Othello 1 3 5 2 4 15
Lear 2 1 2 14 1 3 23(h)
Macbeth 1 2 8 9 7 27
Antony and Cleopatra 4 8 15 8 7 42
Coriolanus 3 4 9 8 3 2 29
Timon of Athens 4 1 4 5 1 2 17(i)
Pericles 2 5 4 12 4 27(j)
-- -- -- --- -- -- ---
Total 41 38 67 142 24 33 345
P. probably
D. definitely
(f) IV, ii and iii treated separately.
(g) Number of scenes for _Measure for Measure_ is based on Folio
numbering.
(h) II, ii-iv are treated as one scene following Quarto and Folio.
(i) IV, iii-iv are treated as one scene.
(j) Choruses involving dumb shows are treated as scenes.
ii. Properties Required in the Globe Plays
THE SHAKESPEAREAN PLAYS:
_Property_ _Plays_ _Scenes_ _Method of Introduction_
Tables Othello I, iii probably discovered
Pericles II, iii no indication
Antony and Cleopatra II, vii brought on
Antony and Cleopatra I, ii brought on
Timon I, ii brought on
Timon III, vi brought on
Macbeth III, iv probably brought on
As You Like It II, v probably brought on
Hamlet V, ii brought on
Macbeth V, i use uncertain
Julius Caesar IV, iii use uncertain
Seats Antony and Cleopatra II, vii brought on (stool)
Coriolanus II, ii brought on (stool)
Othello V, ii brought on
King Lear IV, vii brought on
Julius Caesar III, i probably brought on
Hamlet I, i probably brought on
Measure for Measure V, i probably brought on
All’s Well II, i probably brought on
Pericles V, i probably brought on
Pericles V, i probably discovered
Antony and Cleopatra III, x probably brought on
Coriolanus I, iii probably brought on
Hamlet III, iv no indication
King Lear III, vi no indication
Julius Caesar IV, iii no indication
Pericles I, ii no indication
All’s Well II, iii no indication
Coriolanus V, iii no indication
Antony and Cleopatra II, ii no indication
Macbeth III, iv probably discovered
Hamlet III, ii no indication
King Lear III, vii no indication
Beds Antony and Cleopatra V, ii taken off
Pericles III, i probably discovered
Othello V, ii probably discovered
Julius Caesar IV, iii no indication (cushions)
King Lear III, vii probably discovered
(cushions)
Pericles V, i discovered
Scaffold Antony and Cleopatra IV, xvi probably brought on
Julius Caesar III, ii brought on
Troilus and Cressida I, ii probably brought on
Tombs Timon V, iii no indication
Pericles IV, iv no indication
Tents Julius Caesar IV, ii use uncertain
All’s Well III, vi use uncertain
Troilus and Cressida I, iii use uncertain
Trees, As You Like It III, ii use uncertain
Rocks, All’s Well IV, i use uncertain
etc. As You Like It II, v use uncertain
King Lear V, ii use uncertain
Antony and Cleopatra IV, xiii use uncertain
Timon IV, iii use uncertain
Twelfth Night II, v no indication
Hamlet III, ii no indication
Straw King Lear III, iv discovered
Julius Caesar V, v no indication
Julius Caesar V, iii use uncertain
Merry Wives of Windsor V, vi use uncertain
Statue Julius Caesar III, i use uncertain
Desk Merry Wives of Windsor I, iv use uncertain
Stocks King Lear II, ii brought on
Cauldron Macbeth IV, i taken off
Chest Pericles III, ii brought on
Corpses Pericles I, i probably discovered
Total number of properties 65
Less properties whose use is uncertain 15
Total number of properties used 50
Properties brought on 12 24% }
Properties probably brought on 11 22% } 50%
Properties taken off 2 4% }
Properties discovered 2 4% }
Properties probably discovered 7 14% } 18%
Properties for whom method of
introduction is not indicated 16 32%
THE NON-SHAKESPEAREAN PLAYS:(k)
_Property_ _Plays_ _Scenes_ _Method of Introduction_
Tables Every Man Out of His
Humour II, ii use uncertain
Every Man Out of His
Humour V, iv no indication
Cromwell vii brought on
Devil’s Charter IV, iv use uncertain
Devil’s Charter Prologue probably brought on
Devil’s Charter IV, iii brought on
Devil’s Charter V, vi brought on
Devil’s Charter V, iv brought on
Fair Maid of Bristow i use uncertain
Miseries of Enforced
Marriage xii brought on
Revenger’s Tragedy V, iii brought on
Seats Merry Devil of Edmonton Prologue discovered
London Prodigal ii probably brought on
Yorkshire Tragedy viii brought on
Miseries of Enforced
Marriage xii brought on
Devil’s Charter IV, v probably brought on
Devil’s Charter V, vi discovered
Devil’s Charter V, vi brought on
Devil’s Charter I, v brought on
Devil’s Charter Prologue brought on
Devil’s Charter II, i no indication
Devil’s Charter I, iv discovered
Cromwell vi discovered
Every Man Out of His
Humour II, ii probably brought on
Every Man Out of His
Humour Chorus brought on
Sejanus II, ii no indication
Sejanus III, i probably brought on
Volpone V, xii probably brought on
Volpone IV, v probably brought on
Volpone V, iii brought on
Revenger’s Tragedy I, ii no indication
Revenger’s Tragedy V, i probably discovered
Beds Merry Devil of Edmonton Prologue discovered
Devil’s Charter IV, v taken off
Volpone I, ii no indication
Revenger’s Tragedy I, iv discovered
Revenger’s Tragedy II, iv no indication
Tents Devil’s Charter Prologue probably brought on
Devil’s Charter IV, iv no indication
Scaffold Volpone II, ii brought on
Fair Maid of Bristow xiii taken off
Raised Every Man Out of His
Structure Humour III, ii no indication
Writing Miseries of Enforced
Desk Marriage iii use uncertain
Miseries of Enforced
Marriage iv use uncertain
Cromwell iii discovered
Volpone V, ii no indication
Trees, Merry Devil of Edmonton x use uncertain
Rocks, Merry Devil of Edmonton x use uncertain
etc. Merry Devil of Edmonton i use uncertain
Miseries of Enforced
Marriage ix no indication
Miseries of Enforced
Marriage ix use uncertain
Every Man Out of His
Humour III, iii use uncertain
Gibbets A Larum for London viii use uncertain
A Larum for London xi use uncertain
Post A Larum for London xiv use uncertain
Cromwell v use uncertain
Every Man Out of His
Humour III, i use uncertain
Tortoise Volpone IV, iv no indication
Chest Volpone I, i no indication
Altar Sejanus V, iv no indication
Magic
Glass Devil’s Charter IV, i discovered
Statue Devil’s Charter I, ii use uncertain
Earthen
Vessel Devil’s Charter IV, i brought on
Prop
Lion or
Dragon Devil’s Charter IV, i brought on
Cupboard Devil’s Charter V, iv brought on
Hearse A Larum for London ii brought on
Cannon A Larum for London II, ii use uncertain
Corpse Revenger’s Tragedy V, i no indication
Total number of properties 68
Less properties whose use is uncertain 17
Total number of properties used 51
Properties brought on 18 35.3% }
Properties probably brought on 8 15.7% } 54.9%
Properties taken off 2 3.9% }
Properties discovered 8 15.7% } 17.6%
Properties probably discovered 1 1.9% }
Properties for which method of
introduction is not indicated 14 27.5%
(k) This list of properties does not include properties from
_Satiromastix_ or _The Malcontent_.
APPENDIX C
i. Disguise
_Play_(l) _Character_
_Dress_ _Manner_ _Voice_ _Face_
_As You Like It_ Rosalind
II, iv, 4-8 I, iii, 122-124
III, ii, 313-315
_Twelfth Night_ Viola
I, iv, s.d. I, V, 177-236 I, iv, 29-34
_Twelfth Night_ Feste
IV, ii, 1 IV, ii, 22-23 IV, ii, 71-72 IV, ii, 2
_Measure for Measure_ Duke
I, iii, 45-48 I, iii, 45-48
II, iii, 1-42
_Coriolanus_ Coriolanus
IV, iv, s.d.
IV, v, 59 ff.
_Pericles_ Pericles
II, ii, 48-52
_Pericles_ Thaisa(m)
V, iii, 13-15
_Julius Caesar_ Lucilius(n)
_Merry Wives of Windsor_ Ford(o)
II, ii (?)
_Merry Wives of Windsor_ Falstaff
IV, ii, 190 ff.
_Merry Wives of Windsor_ Children, Evans
V, iv, 49-52
V, v
_Othello_ Roderigo
I, iii, 346(?)
_King Lear_ Kent
I, iv, 1-4 II, ii, 1-180 I, iv, 1 f.
_King Lear_ Edgar (Poor Tom)
II, iii, 10 II, iii, 9-20 II, iii, 14-20 II, iii, 9(?)
III, iv, 66 III, iv
_King Lear_ Edgar (Peasant)
IV, i, 40-44 IV, vi IV, vi, 7 f., 45 ff.
_King Lear_ Edgar (Cornishman)
IV, vi, 235-251
_King Lear_ Edgar (Champion)
V, iii, 117, 142
_Devil’s Charter_ Candie, Caesar
F3^v
_Merry Devil of Edmonton_ Raymond as Friar
D2^r
_London Prodigal_ Old Flowerdale
A2^r A2^r G4^r 18-20
_London Prodigal_ Luce
F1^v F1^v F1^v
_Cromwell_ Hodge, Bedford
C4^v 26-D1^v 27 C4^v 26-D1^v 27
_Miseries of Enforced Marriage_ John, Thomas